


Blood/Thunder/Briefcase

by SoPHiasideas



Category: Sunstone (Webcomic)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:52:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoPHiasideas/pseuds/SoPHiasideas
Summary: After coming out to Cassie, Anne is afraid that she's going to lose her longtime friend. Cassie tries to save and strengthen their bond, and clarify Anne's misunderstandings.





	1. Chapter 1

Five. This was the fifth lesson in a row Cassie had posed facing away from her. Anne had thought it was okay, when they had joked on her coming-out, the “You want me.” and middle finger. But now she was scared, did Cassie really think she was, she couldn’t find the words for her fear. She almost sighed, but held it back, drawing her fifth rendition of her nude friend from the back. She may as well just carry the first week’s drawing and change as necessary, if this treatment was going to continue. Frowning, her pen scraped quietly against the paper, finding the indents of her spine, her shoulder blades, now familiar with them. It was lucky, or maybe unlucky, that she could draw without too much focus on the subject, flicking her eyes back and forth from paper to posing friend as her mind raced. Maybe she should switch to a different class. Maybe she should talk to Cassie, make sure she didn’t have the wrong idea. Maybe talking would be a bad idea, and would only make things worse, make her friend even more paranoid than she was already. There had been plenty of ‘like one of your french girls’ and play-acting at the famous scene during previous lessons, but that’d all been before she’d discovered herself, or told Cassie.

She was so lost in worry, she didn’t realize the passage of time until Cassie stood. She blinked herself back into the moment, putting her fears aside as she packed up her things while Cassie redressed. She wasn’t going to bring it up today, or tomorrow. Not unless Cassie made her. She put on a smile, only half fake and rejoined the lawyer-to-be. Cassie was still fidgeting with her hair tie, putting all her red locks back up after being displaced by putting on her shirt. Anne watched, wishing she could’ve drawn a pose like that, but between Cassie’s cold shoulder and how tired it would make her arms to hold the position, she doubted that would be possible.

“Coffee? My class later was cancelled.” Cassie spoke, bringing her again back to reality. Fuck, she really needed a handle on drifting in and out of her worries. Anne nodded, looking to her phone at the time. Wait, the time didn’t matter, this had always been her last class for the day anyway. She was being avoidant.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Anne replied, and the two made a brisk pace, chattering on the whole time about the things they both liked, that only Anne liked, that only Cassie liked, that they both hated. It took them seven minutes to reach their usual cafe, then another two to wait in line and place their orders, then another three to have them both filled. They sat outside on the benches, enjoying the weather and warmth. Anne’s phone dinged, a facebook notification for a show that a few of her metal sort-of-friends were going to. And Tom. Which probably meant and Cassie. Fuck, she tried sharing what she enjoyed with her friend, and it had tumbled down the rabbit hole into this mess. Maybe she’d just stay home, miss the possibilities altogether, given that none looked very good.

“Oh, Tom wanted me to go to that one, was on his list of ‘metal I’ll either love or hate.’” Cassie commented, looking over Anne’s shoulder. She could tell something was bothering her, but didn’t want to pry. There’d be plenty of that when she was cross-examining witnesses, someday. Anne nodded, putting her phone back in her pocket and drinking the coffee she’d kept black.

“Are you gonna?” She asked, not looking over to Cassie, her voice not betraying the whirlwind of fears and bad outcomes that tore through her mind. She looked like she was contemplating whether to draw the buildings across the street, one hand dangling into her bag, ready to grab whatever was needed, be it paper, pencils, or cigarettes.

“I don’t know, he’s been right about most of the list, but most of it was also ‘hate.’” Cassie thought a minute, she didn’t have anything that really kept her away, other than her disdain for most of the aforementioned list. “Probably.” She finally decided. Anne gave a noncommittal grunt in acknowledgement, taking out her sketchbook and a pen, sketching the tree that stood in the middle of the grass. It was just the right time that you could see beams of sunlight shining through the leaves, if you looked at it the right way. The graphite scratched and scraped against the paper, being true to what it was meant to imitate, but also imparting Anne’s own style, her own eye for what was in front of her. Cassie watched, quietly, knowing that distracting Anne was a bad idea both for the drawing and herself. It took fifteen minutes until the scene surrounded the subject, and Anne’s concentration broke, completing what it had been summoned for.

“Why do you always face away from me now, in the figure drawing?” She finally brought it up. The drawing of a moment she’d seen a thousand times before, it was just a cover, something to let her think without seeming as if she had truly zoned off.

“Huh?” Cassie didn’t know what Anne was talking about. All this time she hadn’t been intending it that way, she was just posing how it came to her for the day. She could tell Anne was serious, however, their usual name for the figure drawing class was ‘the strip club in denail,’ a carry-on of Anne’s ‘stripping your way through law school,’ joke.

“You always face away from me now. I’ve got five weeks straight of your back.” Anne clarified, thinking Cassie was playing dumb. “You think I’m gonna use my homework as whack material?” She finally faced her, anger on her face but sadness in her eyes.

“Anne, I-”

“Nevermind. Have fun with Tom tonight.” Anne stood, walking away briskly and angrily, her speed just barely short of outright jogging. Cassie sat on the bench, confused, trying to put the pieces together on why Anne had burst out at her, why she got so angry out of nowhere. They came together, and her head sank into her hand. Anne coming out to her, trusting her. The teasing, then five weeks straight of always facing away from her. It was unintentional, but she could see how Anne was taking it as some kind of rejection. She huffed, wishing Anne had just let her explain, and threw both their empty cups in the trash. No metal show tonight, she needed to clean this up before it got worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Trudging up the stairs in her building, anger and worry racing through her mind, it was only due to the powers of habit that Anne found her room and successfully unlocked it. She slammed the door behind her, throwing herself on the couch and pounding her right fist into the throw pillow at its end as her left hand grasped her phone, fumbling until her phone found the volume button and clicking the ‘down’ until she was sure it couldn’t be anything but silent anymore. She’d felt it vibrate and heard it ring twice on her way over, and even if it weren’t Cassie, she couldn’t stand to see or talk to anyone else right now. She felt a wetness against her nose where her face lay on the throw pillow. Fuck, of course she was crying. Her only real friend for how many fucking years was turning off of her, just because she was bi. She rolled over, wiping her eyes, taking her phone and turning it off properly. She just barely managed to notice that there were four texts and two calls from Cassie.

“Fuck off.” She grumbled into the pillow, turning her phone facedown on the coffee table and trying to set herself so she could wail away her grief without having to change position every five seconds. She wanted to put something on, something angry and vengeant, so nobody could hear her but everyone would know how she was feeling. But she’d already had two noise complaints against her, so that wasn’t an option. She bit into the throw pillow, immediately regretting that thanks to its texture, and yelled as loud as she could. There was no intent for it to sound like a word, just an attempt to expunge herself of her anger, her regret, as if she could scare it all out of her by being loud. Two more rounds of that, and no fucking results. She felt just as awful, maybe even more. Her mind kept reaching back, all the good times between her and Cassie, all the times they’d needed each other and been there. Every moment of memory made it hurt worse. She finally took the pillow away from her face, holding it against her stomach, hitting it a few times. What was she supposed to do, how was she supposed to feel better. She wailed, just hugging the beaten and battered throw pillow against her chest, facing into the back of the couch and sobbing. That’d been her plan from the beginning after all, may as well give it the old college try.

\----------

Four texts, two calls, and then Anne’s phone went straight to voicemail. Cassie huffed, of course Anne wouldn’t want to talk anymore after that outburst. It infuriated her though, not being able to defend herself, just having accusations thrown at her and then cut off. No, she hadn’t been avoiding Anne. No, she didn’t think she’d use the drawings of her nude as ‘whack material.’ They’d had enough talk over the years to know that Anne’s fantasies involved two kinds of people; fictional, and musicians to whom she was nonexistent. She used her left hand’s forefinger and thumb to squeeze her temples, her right hand unconsciously working her phone, trying to think of a way to get to Anne and figure this out. She let out a long breath, getting her thoughts together and taking them all out of panic mode. The first step was to get to Anne. She’d probably gone to her apartment, but she also didn’t want to talk right then, that much was obvious. So that could be figured out later. The next step would be to explain that she wasn’t intentionally turning herself away from Anne, that would be straightforward, so it was already figured out. Would there be any steps beyond? That would depend on Anne’s reactions, which she could technically try to predict, but Anne’s volatility was not something she wanted to even try comprehend. But she had to, to try and save their friendship.

“First possibility, she believes me and calms down. It’s awkward for a while. I make sure I face her directly for the next drawing, no, the next two.” She began, talking herself through the possibilities.

“Second possibility, she doesn’t believe me, stays mad. Stays tense for awhile or-” no, not ‘or forever.’ “Stays tense for some amount of time, until I find a way to get through to her. Face her directly for the next two drawings.” Those were the reasonable extremes, immediate forgiveness or complete refusal. And given she was dealing with Anne, extremes were the best possibilities.

Now she needed to calm herself down, get out of her analytic, (soon-to-be)-lawyer-Cassie self. She needed to be Anne’s-friend-Cassie. Stop being angry about the outburst, stop being desperate to logic herself into a solution, as if she could present some piece of evidence to prove it wasn’t possible for her to be breaking their friendship just because Anne was bi. That would take some time, and some tea.

\----------

Five, six, five, two. Cassie’s pointer finger quickly put in the code to get into Anne’s building, learned from the nights she had to be designated driver. She walked all the way down the first hallway to the elevator, even though the stairs would put her closer to Anne’s door. She needed a few more seconds to think, even if there wasn’t much more she could think to think of. Maybe it was just being avoidant. If it was, it didn’t last long, as she found herself outside Anne’s door. She took in, then let out, a long breath. It had to be now, or the next time they saw each other this would only get worse. She raised a hand, knocking exactly four times, then returning it to her side. There was a grumble, creaking floorboards, and then the door opened swiftly. Anne stood, her makeup streaked and displaced by her earlier crying, eyes still a deep red and hair in disarray to show she’d been sleeping. On seeing Cassie, her brain delayed on how to feel, before both her jaw and fist clenched. She was about to tell Cassie to fuck off, but Cassie was quicker to it.

“Please, just let me talk to you, for five minutes.” She said, her face and eyes in unison, pleading for this chance from Anne. Anne’s face was angry, but her eyes were sad, as she had been earlier. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as it escaped. Then she stood aside, letting Cassie into her apartment. She hadn’t the foresight to hide her cry pillow, so it was very obvious, sitting out with stains of her makeup on it, and still with two damp spots where her eyes had pressed directly against it.

“Thank you.” Cassie made the addendum as she sat down. She decided not to comment on the pillow, although it gave her a better idea on how much Anne was hurting.

“No, I’m not facing away from you on purpose, and I don’t think you’re going to… ‘whack’ to drawings of me if I do face you.” It was a euphemism Cassie didn’t really like, but she needed to be direct about this, and that meant using Anne’s words. “You’re just as much my friend as you were before your dating pool doubled.” She finished, her hands on her lap, grasping each other in stress. It was the best she could think, be brief and direct. 

Anne stood against the back of the door, chewing her tongue, trying to decide whether to believe Cassie or not. Once or twice could be believed, but five times in a row, facing completely away from her? That’s a hell of a coincidence. But she had made the effort, to come here, to explain, to try to bridge the gap. That’s more than any of the old ‘friends’ she’d ever walked out on. She took in a deep breath, filling her lungs completely, even if her smoking habit had reduced their capacity.

“Okay.” She let out the whole breath at once with that word. She’d come down from her panic, she could see how she’d jumped to the conclusion. And for the parts that were not so much a jump, Cassie’s effort had convinced her that big coincidences could happen, at least this time. She sat down next to Cassie, putting her feet up. It was her own damn coffee table after all. She neglected to put one arm around Cassie, she wasn’t going to be that cheesy. Putting her hands in her face, she let out a long sigh, and most of the tension in her body.

“Oh, fuck…” Were the words that came with it. Cassie smiled softly, figuring that was Anne’s way of saying she’d realized that she overreacted. To be fair, she’d had enough evidence for her first point. She reached over, turning her phone back on and seeing all the missed texts and calls again, as well as two more notifications on the show that was about twenty minutes from starting. She turned her phone over to Cassie so she could see.

“You’ve still got a chance to go.” Anne said, wiping her eye with one hand. She really needed to clean herself up, judging by the half-reflection of her face on her phone screen. Cassie thought a moment, she had technically wanted to go, and only crossed it off her plans for the night because of the issue with Anne. But, she didn’t want to run in just to fix everything, then run right back out.

“I’m not going, I’d probably hate the band anyway.” Cassie decided, sitting back and getting comfortable. Tonight was a night for staying in with a nearly-lost friend.


	3. Chapter 3

They were two beers and one smoke break into the night, The Matrix: Reloaded on T.V. for background and so Anne could critique it whenever she saw something that she figured was ‘the best,’ ‘the worst,’ or ‘should’ve been the real focus.’ Cassie wasn’t as invested, but she could appreciate Anne’s commentary, and agreed with most of it. She was putting half of her mind to Anne, one quarter to her phone, and one quarter to relief that their troubles were passed over. She fell back into the rhythm she’d only forgotten for a few hours, meeting her eyes at every opportunity and feeling the rhythm as their conversation came back and forth between until the credits rolled.

“You’re right. They should have made The Architect more important.” She said, pulling herself up out of the couch by the armrest, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders, popping a few knuckles for good measure. She stood at the fridge, noting that there was only 1 beer left, and remembering this was Anne’s apartment it wasn’t hers to take. She let out a short huff through her nose and closed the fridge.

“Last one?” Anne asked, noticing Cassie’s empty-handedness. She waved a hand noncommittally, letting Cassie have it. She could open something better, if the want arose. But she was really dying for another smoke.

“Back in five.” She said, grabbing her jacket and cigarettes, bounding out of the apartment. Cassie sat back down, popping the cap off with the edge of the coffee table, and noticing for maybe the five hundredth time how many marks were in it from previous uses of the technique. To Anne, there was no need to get a real bottle opener if you could just use the nearest table or countertop. Anne’s drawings from the day were scattered on the table as well, from rifling through her bag for the cigarettes. There was the moment she’d captured of the tree with shafts of sunlight piercing through its leaves and branches, and of Cassie, nude from behind. One of five, according to Anne. Both were spectacular, but the tree clearly had more love in it. It should have, Anne chose to draw that, at that time, on that day, from that angle. The drawing of Cassie’s back was beautiful in its own right, but it was rigorous, forced. It was an assignment, an unpleasant one only because of Anne’s mental state at the time. Cassie sighed, realizing she could probably find four more pictures of her back, with each a different degree of familiarity and frustration. She was still looking over the two, comparing their effort and style when Anne returned.

“I’m sorry.” Cassie said, breaking her own internal promise not to bring it back up. She didn’t usually get a look at Anne’s art of her, except on a couple occasions to tease, but even those few instances made the differences in the drawing of her back plain as day.

“Oh, that? No, don’t worry about it. You didn’t realize.” Anne moved quickly, gathering up both drawings and putting them in her folder. The tree went on the left, because it was for herself. Cassie’s back went on the right, because it was an assignment. She sat back down, realizing this had resurfaced the awkwardness they’d been dealing with in the moments immediately after they’d agreed to move forward.

“You could, draw me again, if you want. Like, here, not waiting a whole week.” Cassie began, thinking herself through this mostly with her heart and only a little with her head. But enough of her head to justify it, “Drawing my back over and over isn’t helping you learn anything.”

Anne couldn’t argue that, the improvements in her series of five were only due to familiarity with that particular subject in that particular view. They wouldn’t carry over except to women like Cassie, being drawn nude from the back. She rolled her eyes, let out a sigh, and nodded. She needed some real practice, and it might give them a chance not to make the next class awkward. She got her sketchbook out sitting on the coffee table and looking at Cassie, chewing her lower lip in thought. Cassie was stripping down, having thrown a casual glance at all the windows to make sure the blinds were down. She tossed away her panties, leaving her completely nude, and sat on the couch, trying to think of a pose.

“Any suggestions?” She asked, figuring that if it would be Anne’s practice, and her own sort of apology, Anne should have the bigger say in it.

“Yeah uh…” Anne thought a minute, pulling her hair behind her ear. “Sit sideways, so your torso is on my left. Pull your right leg back a little, so your ankle is against your left knee, and leave your left leg out all the way.” She was putting this together as it came to her, but it would be an interesting and challenging pose to recreate. “Then put your left hand on your right knee, and your right hand by your butt, and look wherever you want.”

Cassie placed her limbs at almost the same moments as Anne directed them, deciding to look over at Anne’s door, so the imaginary line of her sight passed over the big toe of her left foot. A few moments after setting herself, she relaxed into the pose, having enough practice holding them. She could hear Anne’s pen and paper, catching the movement from the corner of her eye. Anne was channelling Jack Dawson, not the flirty, adventuring boy in love, but the artist, looking up for only a moment, making a few marks, looking up again to correct them, so on and so forth. She was normally quicker, given the time constraint placed on her by the class period, but for this she wanted good, real practice. She took it slow, making every mark matter and skipping over what didn’t catch her eye. The drawing began with dusk and only barely finished when the sun set, Anne thankful she’d been quick enough that she hadn’t had to turn on the lights and thus have two sets of shadows to choose from. Cassie stood, stretching out after holding her place for so long each of her arms across her collarbone.

It wasn’t just for Anne that artistic moments provided a cover for zoning out. Cassie was used to the uninterrupted thinking time that posing gave her. And there was something that’d occupied that time for all five weeks since Anne had come out to her, her own sexuality. She hadn’t considered it before, she’d always found men to be attractive, available, and most of the time satisfying. But, Anne had been in the same boat, and only just realized herself that she was capable of wanting women, of loving them. Well, the second part had yet to be verified, but that wasn’t the point. They’d both gone so long only really looking for men, not thinking there was anything more for them to look for, until Anne finally found that there was. And then she’d told Cassie, and gotten her thinking, and searching, and looking, until one night she’d also pleased herself to the thought of a woman.

She just, couldn’t figure out how to tell Anne. Even with the time it’d taken for her to connect those dots, she still felt as if she might come off as a cheap copycat, stealing the moment of self discovery and happiness from her friend. This may not be the night, or the occasion, given the events of the day and her current state of undress. But she’d get around to it, and Anne would be the first to know.


	4. Epilogue

Oh fuck, was this really happening?

Anne had to step back and think, which was a problem because she was preoccupied with kissing Cassie, who was eagerly kissing her back. Eagerly and energetically. The same Cassie that had teased her about being bi, the same Cassie she’d feared would leave her over that revelation and nearly drove away herself. The same Cassie that had returned the coming out a couple weeks after the major fight. So no, it wasn’t particularly unbelievable that she was actually kissing her, or being kissed back, except for the suddenness of it all. Fuck, it wasn’t just kissing. Her hands were on her neck, fingers working her way into her hair. Cassie was going all out on her, and Anne was loving every minute of it. She mirrored the affections, her hands on Cassie’s neck, then diving through her much longer hair. Her heel kicked against something and brought her back to the present. They were in her apartment, making out like high schoolers in the hallway with her door wide open.

She took a second to bite her lip and kick the door closed, keeping her balance by leaning against Cassie. Then it was back to the kissing, and hair touching, and now one of Cassies hand’s was hooked on the neckling of her shirt, pulling it forward and down.

“Whoa… whoa…” Anne broke the kiss, getting her breath back, feeling her face redden and seeing Cassie’s doing the same. It was completely unexpected, they were coming from seeing The Tempest (because one of Cassie’s friends was the lead) to have a coffee and a smoke at Cassie’s apartment, how did that possibly carry forward to them doing… this.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Cassie huffed, realizing she’d gotten very excited very quickly. She had gone the whole nine yards, tongues in each others mouths, hands in the hair, starting to tug at the clothes. That was probably too fast.

“No, no it was good I just- that was fast.” Anne tried to put her thoughts together, still struggling to catch up to what was going on, trying to put the pieces together. She and Cassie had been talking about something, um, the girl who had played Ariel, and how she was both cute and hot, and they’d both jump at the chance to date her. And then to which girls they would date, since they’d gone over the men in their lives so many times with the same comb, then holding hands, then opening the door, then That.

“Am I- Should I not have?” Cassie asked, starting to retreat into a more closed posture. She was the one who put her hands on Anne’s shirt, started tugging it away. She was the one who had initiated the kiss. If Anne was uncomfortable, it was on her. She looked up and pulled herself back into reality, and it was her turn to be caught by absolute disbelief. Anne had taken her shirt off, and was working at her jeans. Cassie bit her lip before she realized she should probably be undressing too. It was faster for her, and although Anne’s favorite were the stripper jokes, she had actually made a routine for it in all her time as the model for the figure drawing class.

“No, wait.” Anne’s jeans were around her ankles, she stepped out of them and toward the bedroom, “We are not fucking on your couch.” Cassie nodded, kicking her pants away and following, unhooking her bra as they entered the bedroom and tossing it aside. It took just a few seconds for them both to be nude, and going at it once again but horizontally, on Cassie’s bed. Hands wandered naked flesh, neither of them virgins, nor experienced in sleeping with women. Random, haphazard groping, on their chests, their rears, feeling the indentations that their spines and shoulderblades and ribs made against their skin. All the while their kiss persisted, until Anne’s hand found the courage to slide across the crease between her thigh and her hip, and feel the tuft of red hair just a bit below her belly button. Cassie paused a moment her own hand reaching down and guiding Anne’s between her legs, to where she wanted to be touched.

Anne was eager, if inexperienced. She knew what felt good to her, and how to get herself going, but Cassie’s wants and needs were an unknown quantity. She teased her slit, first and middle fingers riding up and down, putting on just enough pressure to part the entrance. Cassie tensed up, the hand guiding Anne’s encouraging her further, wanting her fingers to enter. Anne’s forefinger curled, taking things slowly and carefully inside Cassie. She payed attention to all Cassie’s reactions, trying to figure out what was good and what was better. Going back and forth, good. With two fingers, better. Getting at her clit with the heel of her palm, good. Being more direct and careful with her thumb, better. It was a process, learning to go from the good to better, but with enough wrist work, she felt Cassie tense up, then relax all at once, and making herself heard more than she had been the entire time.

They both lay for a minute, holding hands, specifically Anne’s clean hand. Cassie was panting and Anne was content to lay on her side, watching her, taking note of all the details she’d put onto paper so many times. The drawing she’d made, on her couch from they day they fought, it was her best piece, but she figured she could do better if she captured Cassie right here, right now. Eventually Cassie propped herself up on one arm, looking at Anne, smiling knowingly. She shimmied her way down the bed, her face between Anne’s legs, lips barely a measure from where Anne needed them. Anne took the back of Cassie’s head, encouraging but not forcing her, and felt the moment the first touch was made. She let out sounds to rival Cassie’s, and Cassie went through the same ‘What’s good, what’s better.’ until she felt Anne’s thighs clamp the sides of her head, and could hear Anne’s climax even through that. She gave her a moment to untense herself, crawling atop Anne, giving her gentle, careful kisses. Not much more than their lips brushing or pressing against one another. Eventually, Cassie reached over, throwing the covers over the both of them, leaving the conversation on what they were now for the next morning. 

For now, there was untainted peace, satisfaction, and love.


End file.
